


Rose Colored Boy

by MermaidMayonnaise



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Aliens Made Them Do It, Everyone who thinks John doesn't cry in canon needs to rewatch the end of season 3, Humor, Listen. I'm trying to branch out, M/M, One Shot, so I'm writing a lot of experimental things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-03 00:45:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19452910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MermaidMayonnaise/pseuds/MermaidMayonnaise
Summary: Teyla and John shared a glance that silently said,Who wants to spend a pleasant afternoon with Rodney?and discreetly played a game of Rock Paper Scissors behind their backs, which John promptly lost.“Let’s go,” Rodney said, and John sighed forlornly.--(And really, what is it with aliens and weird sex rituals?)





	Rose Colored Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my invaluable beta Sarah, who caught my continuity issues and taught me that pants can't suddenly disappear by themselves.
> 
> This was originally titled "Not a DubCon SlaveFic" which shows how the best-laid plans often go awry. The actual title is the Paramore song that I listened to the most recently.

“Oh, shut up,” Sheppard said to Rodney. “You’ve been orgasming over this device _before_ you found out that it makes you fly.”

“Potentially,” Rodney said, raising a finger in the air.

“Of course.” Sheppard rolled his eyes. “How could I forget?”

-

The mission to PYX-350 started off relatively normal, at least as normal as missions could go when you’re in another galaxy and were involved in gathering a device that could potentially give you temporary flight abilities.

Rodney hadn’t been too happy about the prospect, spluttering indignantly and using phrases like “aerodynamic propulsion” and “laws of gravity” and “did all of physics simultaneously decide to fly out the window,” but Sheppard and the rest of the team never listened to what Rodney muttered under his breath and apparently didn’t intend to do so now.

“We’re going,” Sheppard said, and Elizabeth backed him up with an encouraging nod, “and that’s final.”

Rodney grumbled until Teyla handed him a chocolate bar that she reserved for such occasions. She was truly an invaluable team member.

“Alright, SGA-1,” Elizabeth said. “This is a quick mission. Go to the tribe, see if they’re willing to let us borrow their device, and if not--”

“Take it by force,” Ronon said.

“No, ask to study it there.”

“But if not, we take it by force.”

“No, Ronon,” she said, and his eyes narrowed. Everyone involuntarily took a step back except for Rodney, who was too absorbed in his snack to react.

Ronon and Elizabeth had a silent stare-off, until Sheppard whispered, “He really just wants to be able to fly,” and Elizabeth gave up, heaved a helpless shrug, and said, “Just go.”

As the chevrons locked into place and the gate activated with its customary _whoosh,_ the team stepped through and looked around. The woodlands that surrounded them weren’t much different than a Canadian forest from Earth, or at least that’s what Rodney noted through his last mouthful. 

“Welcome.” A woman appeared next to the gate, dressed in blue silk robes.

“Gah!” said Sheppard, jumping half a step backward. “Sudden appearance!” Rodney rolled his eyes.

The women looked at him strangely and then Teyla thankfully took over, because it just so happened that the two senior members of their team had the same lack of diplomacy skills. 

“Greetings,” she said, clasping her hands together. “We are travelers. We have heard of your device that grants flight and wish to see it for ourselves, and would be grateful if your tribe would let us do so.”

“Of course,” the strange lady said, seeming very on board with the strange request that she certainly didn’t get every day; Rodney wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. “This way.” The woman disappeared into the forest in a swish of robes, and the group stumbled over themselves to keep her in sight. 

Well, Sheppard and Rodney stumbled. Teyla glided serenely over the undergrowth, and the plants bent over sideways to allow Ronon to pass unhindered. Even the undergrowth was afraid of him, the bastard.

They walked for a while in comfortable silence, listening to the native birds twitter in the trees. A scant amount sun filtered through, but it was still hot enough that Rodney wiped his forehead every so often and came away with his fingers wet. He fell into step with Sheppard, who had been uncharacteristically quiet.

“I’m hungry,” Rodney said mournfully.

“You just ate,” Sheppard told him. Rodney sighed in response, and they both tripped over a log that appeared in their path.

-

Eventually, after Rodney complained about the weather, Samantha Carter rejecting his advances yet again, and the stifling heat, they reached a village that was relatively primitive for its size. A council of elders stepped out to greet them when they arrived, but Rodney didn’t listen much except for “Device?” and “Of course, this way.”

There was one catch: only two members of the team were allowed to go into the holy temple that housed the sacred device, and the chosen ones had to be cleansed. In this case, the cleansing was merely drinking some fruity drink that had the consistency and color of pink lemonade.

“And by partaking this holy drink, all of our blessings will be upon you forever more,” the alien intoned dramatically.

Rodney, bored, resisted the urge to pull out his laptop and work and some of the schematics for a new silicon-based projectile weapon. If he’d manage to pull it off, the result would be fantastic. Kavanagh would have an aneurysm out of pure spite, and Zelenka would be forced to, once again, admit that Rodney was the one with the superior intellect.

The flying device was a fluke, obviously. At best it would be some sort of levitation device like in _Dune._ Admittedly Rodney would have cut off his left thumb for technology like that, but after observing the village’s primitive setup, he concluded that the most likely possibility was that they had discovered magnetism. Like repels like; the Nobel Prize goes to… 

“Rodney McKay!” Teyla said, and judging by her indignant tone that hadn’t been the first time that she had done so. “Do not be rude!”

“Well, of course _I’m_ going,” Rodney said, pretending to have paid attention the entire time as the team grimaced at each other.

Ronon’s face was stony, and to be completely honest, Rodney wasn’t all that enthusiastic about quality time with the man, so he didn’t object. Teyla and John shared a glance that silently said, _Who wants to spend a pleasant afternoon with Rodney?_ and discreetly played a game of Rock Paper Scissors behind their backs, which John promptly lost.

“Let’s go,” Rodney said, grabbing his tablet and his backpack. “Come along, John.” John sighed and followed.

-

They were stopped outside the temple by more blue-robed villagers holding a (blue) chalice.

“First, the cleansing ritual must take place,” Mother Teresa said solemnly, and her group of silent not-eunuchs nodded and closed around them threateningly when Rodney said, “Do we _have_ to?”

“ _Rod_ ney!” John hissed. 

“What?”

“You’re embarrassing me!”

Rodney smacked his arm. “What am I, your mother?”

“Just give us the damn potion!” John said exasperatedly, and the alien handed him the chalice.

“Before you drink,” Florence Nightingale said, “you should know that there are some side effects.”

“Ah, whatever,” John said, and took a swig.

Rodney, slightly more cautious, said, “Such as?”

“Well,” Harriet Tubman explained, “it’ll make you more…” she hesitated, looking for the word, “easy.”

Rodney crinkled his brow. “What does _that_ mean? Also, what are the ingredients?”

“Ingredients? The recipe is guarded and holy to our cause.”

“Oh, for crying out loud-- look, does it have any kind of citrus in it? Lemons, oranges, kumquats, etcetera?”

“The cleanser contains a subspecies of grapefruit,” Rosa Parks said.

“Ah,” Rodney said, trying not to look too smug, “I can’t consume citrus.”

“He’s allergic,” Sheppard said, and added, “ _Deathly_ allergic,” swiping his hand across his throat in the universal symbol of _dead. Nada. No more._

Rodney wondered if that was Sheppard’s secret wish, to slip Rodney some sort of bergamot extract and laugh hysterically as Rodney choked and/or ballooned to death, because who the hell was supposed to know that bergamot was a _fruit_ and not a type of wine, let alone that it fell into the godforsaken category of citrus?

“Maybe if I could just watch over Sheppard?” Rodney said graciously, ignoring the frown that Sheppard shot at him.

The elders exchanged looks with each other that said, _We just had to get_ this _one._

“I guess that will suffice,” one of them said uncomfortably.

“Don’t worry,” Rodney said, already entering the temple with his computer in hand. “I’ll try to resist ‘easy’ John, whatever that means.”

“It’s your funeral,” said John, following him with his hands in his pockets. And it was.

-

The temple was relatively simple, a cozy one-roomed affair with stone columns, the device on a pedestal, and the alien version of a couch. Rodney snatched the device and gratefully threw himself onto the couch, because there was absolutely no point in standing one second longer than he had to.

As Rodney fiddled with the carvings, trying to find an electrical conduit or a power switch or whatever was most convenient to turn the damn device _on,_ Sheppard aimlessly walked around the room, running his long fingers over the Grecian patterns and generally being a nuisance.

“Can’t you be quiet?” Rodney, bent over the device with a screwdriver and a paperclip and not having much success with either, snapped at him.

Sheppard raised his hands defensibly. “I’m not doing anything!”

“You--” Rodney resisted the urge to throw the paperclip at Sheppard’s faux-casual attitude “you’re-- existing! Just stop for a while!”

“Do you need something to eat?”

“I--!” Rodney puffed up indignantly, then Sheppard tossed him a Snickers bar and Rodney deflated. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“No problem.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned against the column. “I know that you get hangry.”

Rodney, who after taking a big bite out of the candy bar, had gone back to strategically poking at the cylindrical device with the screwdriver, looked up. “Hangry?”

“Hungry and angry.”

Both the Snickers wrapper and the paperclip hit him a second later.

-

Sheppard eventually got bored of skulking around aimlessly and joined Rodney on the couch. It really was a well-built couch, although it had this awful floral pattern imprinted on the upholstery. 

They started on opposite sides of the couch, Rodney intermittently fiddling with the device and typing on his computer, which he had positioned on the arm of the chair for the convenience of being able to spread out all of his equipment at once.

Sheppard was attempting to entertain himself on the opposite side of the couch (right side up, twiddling his thumbs), eventually turning every which way (upside down, ridiculous hair hanging down to the floor) and reaching every position (head in Rodney’s lap).

“If this is you being ‘easy,’ I’m not sure I mind,” Rodney said absentmindedly, hitting a few keys on the computer as he adjusted the schematics according to the outside visual. He’d disassemble the structure later to the best of his ability and try to reverse engineer it back at Atlantis.

Sheppard’s head in his lap was tolerable. It was warm like a hot water bottle, only alive. Was that weird? That was weird.

For the most part, Sheppard had closed his eyes and seemed to be trying to go to sleep, the only noises that he made were the occasional snuffle and the rustle of his clothes as he shifted to a more comfortable position.

One time when he moved, his head bumped against Rodney’s crotch, and Rodney physically twitched and almost knocked over the device in surprise.

“Hm, sorry,” Sheppard said, without seeming very sorry at all.

-

Rodney frowned at his computer, then at the device, then back at the computer. “I don’t understand.”

Sheppard turned his head to the right so instead of staring up at the ceiling, he was looking at Rodney. “What’s wrong?” he said, and his hot breath ghosted right on Rodney’s crotch and Rodney’s breath hitched as he tried not to squirm.

Rodney tapped his chin with a pen. “The device’s internal structure doesn’t make much logical sense, at least not for the function that they claim it to be able to do; which is flight, which I _still_ think is a bunch of hooey. I’m trying to figure out why, but it’s taking me longer than I thought.”

“What do you mean?” Sheppard twisted his head further and shifted slightly up, and now there was pressure on his dick, and Rodney really didn’t appreciate that right now that he was trying to get work done. Besides, this was _Sheppard,_ Mr. Always Gets the Girl and his teammate. Rodney really had no business being attracted to him at all.

Still, it was significantly more difficult to be working on something while willing down an erection. “Do you mind?” Rodney said pointedly to the head in his lap.

Sheppard yawned, and Rodney saw the sharp points of his canines. “What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing.” Rodney quickly looked away from the long white curve of Sheppard’s neck.” Oh, geez. How could he ever begin to explain that he hadn’t properly gotten laid since graduate school, and that having something that close to his dick was much more distracting than it should have been? 

Sheppard sat up straight, right next to him, so close that their shoulders were touching and he could feel the heat from Sheppard’s thigh through two layers of pants, and glanced pointedly at Rodney’s lap. “Do you need help with that?”

As Rodney spluttered and tried not to drop the device onto the floor, Sheppard looked at him through hooded eyes, and shit, was he _coming on_ to Rodney?

It sounded like the beginning a bad porno, but being on Atlantis and also having limited space and a knack with technology gave Rodney _plenty_ of experience in that sort of area.

Rodney tried to laugh it off. “Is this ‘easy’ John?” He tried to chuckle, but his voice cracked and then trailed away when he saw Sheppard’s gaze flick to Rodney’s crotch, then his mouth, and then licked his lips.

Rodney bit the inside of his cheek, hard. “No, John.” He was so screwed.

-

Without any prompting whatsoever, Sheppard grabbed the front of Rodney’s shirt with one hand, turned his cheek with the other, and kissed Rodney full on the mouth.

Understandably, Rodney promptly flailed his arms around, scattering papers into the air and knocking over at least three separate computers on the floor, and jerked backward. “What the fuck are you _doing?”_

Sheppard gripped the back of Rodney’s head, kissed him again frantically and shoved his tongue in Rodney’s mouth, which a) was not an appropriate response and b) certainly _not_ what Rodney thought was going to happen today. In addition to keeping Rodney’s head in place with one hand, Sheppard was getting handsy with the other.

“Holy shit, Sheppard,” Rodney gasped, shoving John’s hands away from the crotch of his BDUs. “John. Stop.”

John whined, pawing frantically at Rodney’s clothes. “Please. Please.” He groaned, low and deep. “Rodney.” 

Rodney looked up to the heavens, cursing the fact that the only thing protecting John’s sanctity was Rodney’s own ability to suppress his libido. And judging from the sheer amount of time Rodney spent jacking it all through college and graduate school, John’s chances of remaining an undefiled virgin weren’t looking too good.

John fell to his knees, frantically trying to take off his pants and finding that he was unable to do so, looked up at Rodney desperately.

Rodney spread his hands. “I…” He had no idea what to do; it wasn’t like there were protocols in place for when you and your teammates were kidnapped by aliens and one of you was plied with a citrus-based aphrodisiac while the other remained a voyeur. 

John mouthed at Rodney’s BDUs and they both shuddered desperately. Rodney fisted John’s hair-- there was so much of it-- and pulled his head back.

“What are you _doing?”_ Rodney said indignantly.

“I--” John said. He was biting his bottom lip, and it was red and shiny with spit. Rodney’s eyes flicked down to it and then back to John’s eyes. John noticed and shivered helplessly.

For the first time, Rodney realized as he went fully hard, was that ‘easy’ John might not be as easy to resist as he first expected.

-

Rodney had a short conversation with himself.

There were several points to consider. The first, and the most obvious, was that the drink had effectively roofied John. Giving into John’s wishes, while incredibly tempting because Rodney was hard and aching and vividly remembering all the times that he hadn’t gotten laid, was not morally correct. 

While Rodney couldn’t admit that he’d never found himself attracted _to_ John, he could admit John was objectively attractive, in a no-homo and just-a-teammate kind of way. But seriously, who didn’t? The majority of the female population (and a sizable chunk of the male population as well) visibly turned toward Sheppard when he slouched by, like plants turning toward the strongest source of light, or something. Biology, a weak science, was not one of Rodney’s interests.

Anyway, there was no chance in hell that this sudden burst of sexual attraction _towards Rodney_ was chemically uninfluenced. He used to be pretty in graduate school, all big eyes and innocent smile, and could admit that he’d looked better then. Besides, Sheppard had never displayed any tendency towards homosexuality before.

That’s all this was. The aliens had roofied John and tried to warn them both of the consequences, but Rodney was too preoccupied and John (okay, both of them) were too arrogant to consider that attraction could be a problem.

-

Rodney pushed him away, a bitter taste in his throat, and John fell to the ground limply. “Sheppard-- John. This isn’t you.”

John, curled up on the floor with tearful eyes, looking at him with betrayal. He was small, lying there on the cold stone tiles; small and alone.

“I… I _can’t,”_ Rodney said helplessly. “This isn’t you. You’re going to hate me later, not to mention that you’ve never been attracted to me before. They’ve made you--” he gestured towards him “-- _that,_ I don’t even know how to describe it. You’re not something to be had, a _sex object--”_ John groaned at that, curling in on himself, and Rodney suddenly found himself by John’s side, putting his hand on his wrist, trying to pull him back up.

John moaned at the touch, and Rodney jerked his fingers back as though he’d been burned.

“Fuck, keep touching me.” John made a sound like a small sob. “Please. Feels so good.”

Rodney pulled John into a sitting position and started methodically checking his vitals, more for something to do rather than actual concern for John’s health. Well, physical health; John seemed in perfect shape, other than the fact that Rodney was now watching John grope himself.

“Stop that,” Rodney said, swatting John’s hands away, but stopped when John groaned, “Rodney, it _hurts,”_ like a small child, and what could he say to that?

Rodney grasped John’s shoulder, pulling him close so their foreheads were touching. “John, I know you don’t want this--” and ignored John’s small cries of “I do, I _do--”_ and said, “God, I guess I can help you get off, but you have to understand that I’m doing this for _you--”_ and John gasped, “Please, fucking-- just please just keep _touching_ me--”

Rodney pulled John over to the couch, how convenient, then sat down and nudged John on top of him until he was straddling Rodney’s legs, and then he reached and pushed aside John’s pants and boxers and _wow,_ that was John’s _dick,_ and when he reached out and stroked it he found that it was already smeared with precome and that John was achingly hard. John gasped, fingers digging into Rodney’s shoulder painfully as he frantically scrambled for grip. 

Rodney shuffled with the angle for a few seconds and then realized that it was basically the same as getting yourself off but from a different angle, and Rodney was nothing if not a technical learner. John’s whimpers steadily turned into moans, and his hips thrust into Rodney’s hand as he buried his head in Rodney’s neck, gasped wetly, and his entire body jerked as he came hard and emitted a moan so loud that Rodney was concerned about the entire village hearing-- and _fuck,_ wouldn’t that be just what they wanted all along.

John was outright sobbing, gasping frantically as he tried to come down from the orgasm high and found that he couldn’t. “I--” he gasped, choking, “why--?”

“How are you hard _again?”_ Rodney said exasperatedly, but he ran his hand that wasn’t covered in cum through John’s hair softly. He could see the sweat and tears that trailed rivulets down John’s face, feel the muscles that tensed and relaxed under his grip.

John, ever unhelpful, panted and said, “How am I supposed to know?” and then Rodney let go of him to snap his fingers multiple times, and said, “We’re both _i_ _diots_. It’s the damn potion; it’s an aphrodisiac,” and John whined and pressed his lips to Rodney’s again.

John thrust into Rodney’s fist, hips rolling into Rodney's, and the contact made them both suddenly aware that Rodney was also embarrassingly, aching hard, and now John wasn’t the only one who felt like he was going to die, because _fuck._

“Can I--” John gasped, and by then Rodney’s restraint was _gone,_ and he said desperately, “Yes, _yes,_ anything you want,” so John slid down to the floor and pulled Rodney’s pants down with him. Rodney lifted his hips slightly to help him along, and John promptly took Rodney’s entire cock in his mouth, and apparently his gag reflex went right along to the nether world with his refractory period, because _holy shit._

Rodney wailed, doing his best not to fuck John’s tight hot mouth as John sucked _hard_ and pulled off, gasping as his lips were covered in spit, and ran his tongue down the entire length. He then swallowed Rodney’s cock, gagging, and went down all the way-- _all the way--_ and Rodney grabbed John’s hair and pulled him closer, wanting, _needing--_

John was rubbing himself on Rodney’s leg, shamelessly humping him as he chased his own pleasure, and Rodney couldn’t believe that John was actually _getting off_ on this, and it was so incredibly hard to stay still and let John do all of the work when he felt like he was going to spontaneously combust if he didn’t do something, anything.

John let Rodney’s cock slide out of his mouth and tried to catch his breath. “You know,” he said, voice rasping, “you can fuck my mouth if you want.”

“Jesus Christ,” Rodney said, because if that wasn’t the fucking hottest thing that he’d ever heard, and he unconsciously fisted John’s hair, and John _moaned_ and wrapped his lips around his cock and then Rodney was fucking into his mouth with short firm thrusts, and it was so, so good.

“Wish you were always like this,” Rodney grunted, so far gone that he didn’t care what he was saying, only focused the fierce heat that blazed through him. “Wish I could always see you like this on your knees, and you’re so hot, fuck, I’ll bet right now that you’ll do anything to get to come, you’re so _desperate_ for it--” and then promptly pulled John away and came all over John’s face and heard him follow with a wounded moan. 

When Rodney felt like he could open his eyes again, he was treated to the sight of a still shaking John, eyes still screwed shut and mouth slightly open, cum covering both cheekbones and dripping down his lips. Rodney’s cock made a valiant effort to react to the sight, but alas.

John was staring at him again, pupils dilated, and Rodney whispered, “Are you _still--?”_ and John responded with a hoarse, “Yeah,” so Rodney grabbed the front of his shirt and switched their positions and pinned him against the back of the couch, kneeling above his lap while reaching into John’s pants and fisting his cock frantically. 

“C’mon, John,” Rodney whispered into his ear, and John frantically twisted as if he was trying to get away but couldn’t. “Just one more time. You can do this, and then it’ll be over.” 

John shook his head frantically, shaking from the overstimulation, and his eyes watered and tears dripped down his cheeks. “I don’t think I can--” and Rodney kissed him and said, “Yes, you can, third time’s the charm; you _will_ come again, one last time for me, John, do it for _me,”_ and John burst into tears again, crying, “Please, please, don’t make me!”

Rodney wiped them away with his thumb and said, “One more for me--” and John bawled, “I _can’t--”_ and Rodney kissed him on the forehead and sped up his hand and said, “You can do it, you’ve done so well, John, now come for me, _come for me--”_ and John arched his back, sobbed and heaved and came all over himself and Rodney and then lay back, shaking as Rodney collapsed panting next to him and congratulated himself on a job well done.

-

They came out of the temple a few hours later, clothes straightened and clean, hair carefully smoothed back into place, Rodney triumphantly holding the device and Sheppard following behind him, wearing his sunglasses and a casual smirk. They made their way back to the clearing where Teyla, Ronon, and the rest of villagers stood, and if the blue-clad leaders scrutinized them closely, they gave no indication that they were aware of their gaze. 

“Got what you needed?” Ronon said roughly, and Rodney gave the device back to Malala and nodded.

“Let’s go home,” Sheppard said, and the team made their way back to the Stargate. Rodney and Sheppard lagged behind the other two, just a few steps, and a casual observer would have noticed that their hands were subtly intertwined.

**Author's Note:**

> This took me a few days to write, which is unusual since I generally write as fast as I possibly can and post the work full of typos. Instead, it took me longer and still has typos. :D
> 
> My tumblr is mermaidmayonnaise.
> 
> Comments make my day and kudos make the world go round.


End file.
